Alone
Author's Note: This was inspired by graytreason's Explosion, which is quite the angsty thriller. I wrote it to break out of a phase of 'Holy crap! What ever possessed me imagine that I can actually write anything that isn't total garbage?' while I was working on Advantage, and it worked. It was never meant to see the light of day. Then, seeing-ghosts posted a totally devastating oneshot yesterday, and I decided that this had been gathering dust for too long. For what it's worth, I dedicate it to both of them. I warn you, I didn't have the skills necessary to bring this to a happy conclusion. Happy holidays to all. Enjoy?
Warning: Angst, angst, and more angst. And oh yeah, angst. Consider yourselves warned.
Edward was placing his notes into his briefcase when the shadow fell over him, cast by the man standing in the last rays of sunlight slanting through Central Library's high arched windows. He looked up and his breath caught in his throat.
It had been ten years since last he'd seen Roy Mustang in person, and holy hell, the man was as arresting, as striking, as stunning as ever. Strong, broad shoulders, narrow hips, slim of build, eyes dark, entrancing, fathomless. He still wore the uniform like the finest of custom made suits. The only change was his hair, slicked back to showcase the distinguished streaks of grey at his temples. Ed wondered, after all this time, after all that had been said and done, how this man could still have such a powerful effect on him.
"Hello Edward." His voice was just as Ed remembered it, low, sultry, seductive.
"What the hell do you want?" He snapped his briefcase shut and swept his long coat up from the back of his chair to stride purposefully toward the stairs.
"I heard you were in town," the man said, following in his wake. "I thought we could talk."
"You thought wrong."
Sixteen years old, his quest complete, the rest of his life had been spread out before him, tantalizing, and not just a little bit terrifying. Thanks to that desperate transmutation in the Baschool mines, his life processes accelerated to pay the price, Edward had shot wildly through adolescence like a rogue missile and crashed directly into trouble.
Roy Mustang was that trouble.
"Ten years, Edward," the man said quietly, walking beside him on the grand staircase. "Have you held on to your anger all this time? Do you still hate me so much?"
"Hate's too strong a word," Edward said indifferently. "I don't hate shit, but I still don't want anything to do with it."
It had started not long after the Promised Day. In the hospital watching over a weak but recovering Alphonse, someone mentioned that Mustang was there as well, recuperating, hopeful that Tim Marcoh might return his sight. Edward had gone to visit him, to find out how he was doing, to offer his support. A simple gesture. His first mistake. He'd gone back the next day, and the next, and a friendship had blossomed. And then, soon after, more.
"Not a day goes by that I don't think about you. About us." There was subtle longing in Mustang's sombre voice.
Ed didn't spare him a glance. "I don't waste my time thinking about you at all."
It had fallen apart suddenly and completely, but it didn't take a genius to see it looming on the horizon. He really should have expected it, but he'd been young, and stupid, and yes, he'd been in love. He'd thought – no, he'd known Roy loved him too, and Ed had trusted that, trusted Roy's assurance that everything would be alright, trusted empty promises of always and forever whispered in the dark.
"I'm sorry. Truly, deeply sorry. I had hoped you would move on, find someone who would make you happy, but . . ." When Edward did not take the bait, Mustang continued. "You don't have anyone special in your life. You haven't . . . since. You're alone. As am I."
"We get what we pay for, Mustang. Equivalent exchange."
"Equivalent exchange?" The man scoffed. "You didn't deserve any of it. Come home with me. We can talk, perhaps . . . set this right."
"Forget it." Edward didn't bother to lower his voice, drawing frowns from the librarians as they walked past the checkout desk. "I'd be a fool to go anywhere with you, and I won't be your fool ever again. I've got better things to do than be used and then thrown out with the trash."
They say that promises are made to be broken, especially when a life's dream is at stake. Ed had given up everything to get Al back – his alchemy, and consequently the military, along with his sense of direction. But Roy? Roy still had had everything to lose. Ed remembered that devastating day, the day Mustang had told him it was over, with perfect, painful clarity. Mustang had tried to be gentle, but there is no gentle way to rip out a heart.
"I thought I was doing what was best for both of us. I was wrong. I have regretted it since the moment I closed the door behind you." There was honest remorse in Mustang's voice.
"Tell somebody who gives a shit."
Because Ed didn't. Not anymore. Mustang could shove his bullshit. At the time, the Big Chair, the Führer's position, was up for grabs and the battle was on to see whose ass would warm it. Mustang had dumped Ed flat because he'd feared the opinion of his peers, the negative impact that an intimate relationship with a former, much younger, male subordinate might bring. What was best for Ed, what Ed might have needed or wanted, was never a concern. And the hell of it was that after all his plotting and scheming, after all his political manoeuvrings, after sacrificing Ed on the altar of image management, in the end Mustang's ass had not been selected for the honor he so diligently sought. Ten years later he still sat on the sidelines. Perhaps he always would.
Either way he would do it alone.
"I never meant to hurt you," Mustang said.
"But you did anyway," Ed observed coldly.
He had stumbled out of Roy's life, shaken and bereft. He had gone from the warmth of shared pleasure under crisp white sheets to a threadbare blanket on the couch in Al's small apartment; from a beautiful dream to stark reality in a shattered heartbeat. It had felt as if his life was ending, and in a way it had been; a door had slammed forever shut on the kind of life he should have known he couldn't have.
Mustang was not done. "I loved you Ed. Believe it or not, and I still do. We were amazing together. We had a whole year of amazing together. You can't tell me that meant nothing to you."
"It meant a lot more to me than it did to you." Edward pushed through the front doors and stepped out into the sunset. "You fooled me once with your fancy words and false promises. I'm not a naive kid anymore, and I'm certainly not stupid enough to fall for your bullshit twice."
Ed couldn't deny that Mustang had taught him a lot. About sex. About trust. About love. And about pain. The most important lesson he'd learned was that it was better to be alone than to suffer the cold anguish of discovering that you weren't worth it. It was a lesson he didn't need to repeat.
"I know I made a terrible mistake," Mustang said earnestly. "I know I hurt you. But I've learned from that mistake. I know now what I was throwing away when I told you it was over. I won't make that mistake again. All I want is a chance to prove it."
"You've got to be kidding."
"I'm not, Ed. Please. Al has made Xing his home. You're alone. Can you really be satisfied with your life with no one to share it? I know now that I can't, and I don't think you can either."
But Mustang was wrong. Ed was satisfied with his life, and while it wasn't perfect, he'd worked hard to make it meaningful and fulfilling.
It had been a long hard road, learning to live for himself. Alphonse had been there for him of course, as Ed had stumbled clumsily along trying to find his way, keeping busy by occasionally tutoring a few of Al's Central University classmates. When one of them had casually mentioned who was responsible for her substantially improved grades to a professor, the man had come to personally offer him a job as a teaching assistant. By the end of the year he'd had a full scholarship. He'd rocketed through his studies in the Faculty of Archeology, earning his first degree in two years, his Masters in another, his Doctorate in one more. People knew him now as Dr. Edward Elric, PhD., celebrated archeologist, no longer just a stray dog off the military leash. He had a new purpose, a new place in the world, and that place was the ruins of Xerxes, carefully uncovering how his father's people had lived, learning about a way of life long forgotten but endlessly fascinating.
As for someone to share his life, he could share his life's work with the world. That was good enough for him.
Edward stopped to look the man square in the eye. "I lost my alchemy, my purpose, my livelihood, and then I lost you. All your promises are worth is a door slamming in my face when something better comes along. So thanks for the memories, you piece of shit. I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life than spend one more second anywhere near you."
Mustang did not follow him this time as he started away. Descending the wide stone steps in the dying light of day, Edward glanced back for a final look at the man standing there, and was ashamed to admit that he felt a small twinge of satisfaction at the pain and disappointment he found in dark eyes. Ed had cared for this man once, loved him. Was he really so petty, to enjoy Mustang's regret just because the man had hurt him, long ago?
Mustang's eyes sparked with hope at what he perceived as hesitation on Ed's part, and he took a small, tentative step toward him.
Edward turned away.
He walked forward.
Because that was what he did best.